such was the case. Then he said, quietly:

"Madame, I can well believe it. Charity does not discriminate in its
objects. Yet, since I so happened to be that object, I must thank you.
Madame, it is not probable that I shall ever visit Rambouillet again,
nor, indeed, France after a little while; let an----"

"Not visit France again!" she exclaimed, staring open-eyed at him.
"Are you not a Frenchman?"

"Madame, I was a Frenchman. I am so no longer. I have parted with
France forever. In another week, or as soon after that as possible, I
intend to quit France and never to return to it."

She took a step back from him, amazed--terrified. What had she done!
This man had renounced France forever--would have crossed her and
Raoul's path no more--have resigned all claim to all that was his. And
she had taken a step that would lead to his being detained in
France--that might, though his chance was remote, lead to his true
position being known. Yet, was it too late to undo that which she had
done? Was it?

She had bidden the officer in command at the _chateau_, who aspired to
her regard, send to her house that night and arrest a man who, she had
every reason to believe, had escaped from the galleys. Also she had
warned him to let no man pass the gate without complete explanation as
to who and what he was; and he had sent back word thanking her, and
saying that, provided the person of whom she spoke did not endeavour
to leave Rambouillet before sunset, he would have him arrested at her
house. She had done this in early morning; now the sunset was at hand.
Ere long the soldiers would be here, and he would be detained--would
speak--might be listened to. She had set the trap, and she herself was
snared in it.

Yet, she remembered, she wanted one other thing--revenge for the
opprobrious word he had applied to her long ago. If he quitted France
she must forego that. But need she forego it? He had spoken of himself
in lowly terms--was it possible he still did not know who he was, as
De Roquemaure had told her long ago he did not know then? The revenge
might still be hers if he knew nothing. She must find that out if she
could.

"Monsieur must have very little in France that he deems of worth," she
said, "since he is so desirous of quitting it. There are few of our
countrymen who willingly exchange the land of their birth for
another."

She had seated herself as she spoke before a table on which stood a
tall, thin vase filled wi